Most have my writing over the years has tended toward the didactic and hectoring.
A friend once described a talk I had given as 'a fine example of Geoff Smiths apocalyptic rhetoric'.
In starting this blog I set myself a challenge of remaining whimsical, offering a wry look at matters that might fall broadly under the heading of whatever is meant by the big society. I want to be serious in this enterprise but not so serious that I alienate whoever is kind enough to log in and read what I have written.
All that nearly changed yesterday. Because yesterday I had to take a commercial flight.
There was nothing wrong with the flight, I am a huge fan of the carrier and nothing but praise for the kindness shown to us by the cabin crew, we left on schedule arrived on schedule and were offered a professional and courteous service.
It was not the airline. It was the airport. More specifically it was the ridiculous rules that now govern what happens when you choose to fly and indeed how those rules are interpreted and applied by the security teams.
I am only doing my job. But there are ways of doing your job. Ways that diminish people and ways that respect them.
And if you cannot take more than a 100 litres of liquid in you hand luggage, why can you buy litres of Gin and Whisky and what ever in duty free. Could it be that duty free is a major revenue contributor to airports bottom line?
When Mr Cameron flew from Stanstead I wonder did he have to remove his braces or belt and shuffle through the security gate in his stocking feet and have his Marmite confiscated?
I would love to know.
I am of course aware that it is in the interests of my own safety or at least that is the justification given for treating me as a suspect but when I am travelling with my wife who now uses a wheelchair for her mobility and when we are searched and frisked because we happen to be wearing our wedding rings and when asked to raise your arms your unbraced trousers start to respond to Newton's law so you reach down to hoist them up again and well you know how it is really because all of us, even possibly Mr and Mrs Cameron will have shared this experience of being reduced to the status of suspects in the case of the airports generally against the public at large.
Even Mr Strauss-Kahn managed to get through all the security before being hauled out of his first class seat by New York's finest.
The journey started really well at six in the morning when we left by bus for the airport.
The driver was extremely professional and assisted us on and off the Bus, rather than face two trains and the airport shuttle bus and all the hassle of being 'assisted' on and off the trains and the connections we were encouraged to take the bus little knowing that it would be the easiest part of the journey, we were not frisked, our luggage was put in the hold and we were able to keep our trousers on, brilliant.
After that it went downhill until our flight was called and we reset our watches.
Despite being four stones in weight lighter than I was when my passport photograph was taken and having amended my facial identity, which now flaunts a moustache of which I have become quite proud, I even managed to ease my way though passport control just by removing my sunglasses, thankfully I was allowed to keep my braces on.
The airport bus and the railway station were a great success too, both the bus driver and the disabled assistance staff at the station, had obviously recently gained distinctions in recent 'making visitors to the UK welcome' courses.
It was nice to be back home.
But the best was yet to come when our son-in-law met us at the station in our car and I was able to drive home without being suspected or frisked and still wearing my braces.
At one time there was a travel option, heavily advertised called the fly-drive, well, after my most recent experience I would always take the drive option over the flying option any day, as Janis Joplin sang: Oh Lord give me a Mercedes Benz.
A friend once described a talk I had given as 'a fine example of Geoff Smiths apocalyptic rhetoric'.
In starting this blog I set myself a challenge of remaining whimsical, offering a wry look at matters that might fall broadly under the heading of whatever is meant by the big society. I want to be serious in this enterprise but not so serious that I alienate whoever is kind enough to log in and read what I have written.
All that nearly changed yesterday. Because yesterday I had to take a commercial flight.
There was nothing wrong with the flight, I am a huge fan of the carrier and nothing but praise for the kindness shown to us by the cabin crew, we left on schedule arrived on schedule and were offered a professional and courteous service.
It was not the airline. It was the airport. More specifically it was the ridiculous rules that now govern what happens when you choose to fly and indeed how those rules are interpreted and applied by the security teams.
I am only doing my job. But there are ways of doing your job. Ways that diminish people and ways that respect them.
And if you cannot take more than a 100 litres of liquid in you hand luggage, why can you buy litres of Gin and Whisky and what ever in duty free. Could it be that duty free is a major revenue contributor to airports bottom line?
When Mr Cameron flew from Stanstead I wonder did he have to remove his braces or belt and shuffle through the security gate in his stocking feet and have his Marmite confiscated?
I would love to know.
I am of course aware that it is in the interests of my own safety or at least that is the justification given for treating me as a suspect but when I am travelling with my wife who now uses a wheelchair for her mobility and when we are searched and frisked because we happen to be wearing our wedding rings and when asked to raise your arms your unbraced trousers start to respond to Newton's law so you reach down to hoist them up again and well you know how it is really because all of us, even possibly Mr and Mrs Cameron will have shared this experience of being reduced to the status of suspects in the case of the airports generally against the public at large.
Even Mr Strauss-Kahn managed to get through all the security before being hauled out of his first class seat by New York's finest.
The journey started really well at six in the morning when we left by bus for the airport.
The driver was extremely professional and assisted us on and off the Bus, rather than face two trains and the airport shuttle bus and all the hassle of being 'assisted' on and off the trains and the connections we were encouraged to take the bus little knowing that it would be the easiest part of the journey, we were not frisked, our luggage was put in the hold and we were able to keep our trousers on, brilliant.
After that it went downhill until our flight was called and we reset our watches.
Despite being four stones in weight lighter than I was when my passport photograph was taken and having amended my facial identity, which now flaunts a moustache of which I have become quite proud, I even managed to ease my way though passport control just by removing my sunglasses, thankfully I was allowed to keep my braces on.
The airport bus and the railway station were a great success too, both the bus driver and the disabled assistance staff at the station, had obviously recently gained distinctions in recent 'making visitors to the UK welcome' courses.
It was nice to be back home.
But the best was yet to come when our son-in-law met us at the station in our car and I was able to drive home without being suspected or frisked and still wearing my braces.
At one time there was a travel option, heavily advertised called the fly-drive, well, after my most recent experience I would always take the drive option over the flying option any day, as Janis Joplin sang: Oh Lord give me a Mercedes Benz.
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